


Once More With A Twist

by qye



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, swap fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:31:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qye/pseuds/qye
Summary: Wash wakes up in an alternate universe with the perfect memory of the world he's left behind and absolutely no idea of who he seems to be in this one.Meanwhile, his friends are here too, but everything's weird- Tucker has a kid, the freelancers are still alive, Carolina and Epsilon(Church?) are siblings, and Simmons and Griff are dating.What the fuck is going on?





	Once More With A Twist

Agent Washington dives behind a rock, chest heaving under his heavy armor. The ground shakes with another explosion and he hears yelling over coms. 

"Wash, we need cover on the west side- we've been surrounded-" 

"Oh get in LINE, Carolina, I'm PINNED in a fucking FIELD behind a fucking TREE-" 

Wash taps his coms on and shoots behind himself, effortlessly picking off two of the soldiers across the way with a round of bullets. He grimaces and rolls behind a rock to reload. 

"Kinda busy here!!" He snaps, ducking as another grenade goes off nearby. 

He hears a crackling in his ear and flinches, hand raising to his ear. "Carolina, are you picking up on this??" He asks, firing off a few bullets. 

"Wa--s--C--aro-na-elp--- tra-ped-" 

Wash fights back panic as he recognizes the broken bits of Tucker's familiar voice through the static. 

"Tucker? Tucker can you hear me??" He called, hitting his helmet a few times to jostle the coms. 

"H-lp--ma-day, i've been--- nder heav- fir- I'm hi-" 

Washington grinds his teeth and looks around- his visor immediately tracking onto a flash of color at the other side of the canyon. He pops his head up for a better look just as the figure stumbles, the shape turning to reveal bright red splatted down his front, bright and almost unnatural again teal. 

His blood goes cold. 

Loosing rational thought, Wash rises out of his cover. 

"Tucker!!" 

His vision narrows and Washington shoots forward.

As he runs towards the teal warrior, he is far too focused to see the grenade that skitters next to him. 

He is too busy running to notice as it bounces before landing and attaching to his armor with a slick pop. 

And he is too worried about his friend to kick it off as he runs or realize his own rookie mistake until it is a second too late and everything explodes in a horrible flash of white.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
Washington sits up with a shout, franticly spinning to try and pull off the grenade before he falls onto the ground. h When he hits the strangely soft and cooshy floor, he comes to multiple realizations.

One: he isn't wearing his armor. He is exposed and cold and completely bare, only in boxers and a t-shirt- something that immediately pushes a feeling of "wrongness" in his instincts.

Two: he isn't on Namu. There is no fighting or raging battle around him, no loud noises, and no open space- just a neat closed room with four walls and a tiny window- and a carpeted floor- he can't remember the last time he was in a room with a carpeted floor. 

Three: two wide brown eyes observe his place on the floor with bright worry. 

Wash scrambles to his feat and his head whips around to franticly search for anything he can use as a weapon before grabbing the nearest lamp and backing up from the unfamiliar dark face. 

"Who the hell are you? What happened? Where am I??" He snarls, reading himself in a fighter's stance. The stranger raises his arms high in a submissive jesture before making soothing motions with his hands. 

"Woah there- calm down- you're okay. It was just a dream. Put the lamp down." 

Wash stares at the man with seething anger, light on his feet. "That wasn't my question- who are you and where am I??" He repeats through his teeth, stepping forward in what he hopes is an intimidating pose(even without his armor). The man's eyes widen more, but he strangely makes no move to back away. 

"Wash, calm down, okay? It's me, you know me-" Wash blinks in confusion as the stranger uses his name. 

"How do you-" Wait a second. He knows that voice. 

He stares at the man, looking him up and down. He has dark chocolate skin and long dreads pulled into a messy pony tail- hardly regulation, Washington thinks absentmindedly- but he is muscular and fit, and his easygoing smile, albeit strained, is exactly how Wash has imagined it from under a helmet, despite never having the occasion to see the other soldier's face. 

"...Tucker?" 

The man's face spreads into a wider grin and his light eyes flood with relief. "Yea, man. It's me." 

"Tucker...." Wash repeated, looking around before blinking and lowering his guard slightly. His memory flooded back with a rush- crimson against teal- and he stepped forward, lowering the lamp but holding it tight, just in case. "You were hurt- are you alright?" 

Tucker's grin falters with confusion. "I.....what?" 

Wash stares at Tucker for a solid ten seconds before he sighs impatiently. "The battle- you were hurt." He pushes himself onto the bed and examines the other man up and down, reaching out and lifting his shirt to look for some sort of entry wound that caused that much blood. Much to his surprise, he can't find a single stitch- there isn't even a scar. Tucker lets out a huff at his touch and Washington is pulled directly out of his train of thought. He looks around. 

"What happened? Is this some sort of hospital? Have you heard from the others?" Wash turns and stares pointedly at the carpet, squinting in the low light. "And where the hell is our armor??" 

Tucker stares back at him blankly. 

"Of corse you have no idea. Perfect." He mutters, rubbing his face. 

"...what the fuck are you even talking about, David?" 

There is a slight shock as he hears the name slip from Tucker's mouth, and he tries to recall ever telling him that name, but he pulls himself out of it. There are more pressing issues right now. "Tucker, we don't have time for this! We need to re-group and find out what happened-" There's a sound and Wash spins towards the door, raising the lamp. 

It's a child. A human child. A boy, about six or seven- and he is staring up at him with wide, scared eyes. His gaze turns over to Tucker, who quickly stand from the bed and crosses the room, pulling the lamp from Wash with surprising force. 

"Dad?" The child asks in a hushed tone that sounds on the edge of tears. 

Tucker shoots him a glare that Wash doesn't understand before kneeling down next to the boy and ruffling his fluffy hair affectionately. "Hey buddy- no need to worry, everything is fine-" 

"Dad??" Washington questions aloud. This drew two identical stares and Tucker flinches slightly. 

"Wash, please, you're freaking him out." He says softly through his teeth before grabbing the boy's hand and taking a deep breath, forcing a wide smile. 

"Wash is just a bit confused, kiddo. Let's just- go back to bed-" He turned and gave Wash a look as he takes a step to follow, mind bursting with questions. 

"Stay, asshole." Tucker growls quietly, causing Wash to bristle and open his mouth to snap back. But before he has the chance, the man takes the small hand in his and walks out the door, slamming it shut.


End file.
